etter elsewhere:
whether we shall be endowed with more wisdom: whether, as poor
Mr. Reffold said, we shall be glad to behave less like curs, and more
like heroes? These questions come in, but they can be put aside. The
other question can _never_ be put on one side. If that were to become
possible, it would only be so because the human heart had lost the best
part of itself, its own humanity. We shall go on building our bridge
between life and death, each one for himself. When we see that it is
not strong enough, we shall break it down and build another. We shall
watch other people building their bridges. We shall imitate, or
criticise, or condemn. But as time goes on, we shall learn not to
interfere, we shall know that one bridge is probably as good as the
other; and that the greatest value of them all has been in the building
of them. It does not matter what we build, but build we must: you, and I,
and every one."

"I have long ceased to build my bridge," the Disagreeable Man said.

"It is an almost unconscious process," she said. "Perhaps you are still
at work, or perhaps you are resting."

He shrugged his shoulders, and the two comrades fell into silence again.

They were within two miles of Petershof, when he broke the silence:
there was something wonderfully gentle in his voice.

"You little thing," he said, "we are nearing home, and I have something
to ask you. It is easier for me to ask here in the free open country,
where the space seems to give us breathing room for our cramped lungs
and minds!"

"Well," she said kindly; she wondered what he could have to say.

"I am a little nervous of offending you," he continued, "and yet I trust
you. It is only this. You said you had come to the end of your money,
and that you must go home. It seems a pity when you are getting better.
I have so much more than I need. I don't offer it to you as a gift, but
I thought if you wished to stay longer, a loan from me would not be
quite impossible to you. You could repay as quickly or as slowly as was
convenient to you, and I should only be grateful and" . . .

He stopped suddenly.

The tears had gathered in Bernardine's eyes her hand rested for one
moment on his arm.

"Mr. Allitsen," she said, "you did well to trust me. But I could not
borrow money of any one, unless I was obliged. If I could of any one,
it would have been of you. It is not a month ago since I was a little
anxious about money; my remittances did not com